When You Were Dead
by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Summary: Sirius falls back through the veil after the war and needs to be looked after. Ron finds himself falling for him.


Main Pairing: Ron/Sirius. Secondary Pairings (implied): Ron/Hermione, Sirius/Remus, Harry/Ginny

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work**

**Warnings:** Slash, sexual acts, strong language, references to character deaths (Fred and Remus), possibly homophobe!Harry.

**Author's Notes:** Written for live journal's hp_cross_fest from the prompt: "What do you do when you're dating your best friend's godfather?" Big thank you to my beta tania_sings.

It has been pointed out to me that Ron's view of his friends in this is unfair and I agree. His isolation does skew his perspective. This is meant to represent his reactions at one time, and not to fairly or accurately show other characters as we all know them to be.

* * *

When You Were Dead

When the Dark Lord was defeated, his control dissolved: the inferi hordes returned, lifeless, to their graves; the chamber beyond the cave ceased to be; the curse on the teaching post of Defence Against the Dark Arts was lifted; and the veil on the archway was rent and its victims fell forth into the world again.

His fingertip brushed the back of my hand today, just beside the second knuckle from the thumb on the left hand. I wonder how many hundreds of times a week someone accidentally touches me and I never notice?

He has long fingers, but his hands aren't as big as mine. Of course, there are probably shovels which are not as big as my hands. They just keep on growing, until I'm not even sure that they're a part of me any more. I'm still waiting for it to stop – the growing. I'm taller than Bill now. When Percy disappeared off to be a git he was a head taller than me; when he came back to be a hero I was looking down onto the crown of his head. If you're interested, it's thinning already. He's got freckles on his scalp like Dad.

Sirius doesn't have freckles. His skin is even paler than mine, but it is clear and pure and I seem to remember it being like that before, so it's not just because it hasn't been touched by the sun for four years, or because he was dead for two of them.

Harry says that Sirius must not leave that room. He says he wouldn't be able to cope with seeing the rest of Grimmauld Place because he hates it so much and he's been through too much trauma alread. Harry's his Godson, his only heir, and the saviour of the Wizarding World, so I'm not about to argue with him. Also, he's my best mate. Only, I do think it must be miserable, being stuck in bed all day long. Even more miserable than it is at The Burrow these days.

Hermione says that Sirius couldn't cope with bad news, that he mustn't be told who has died. She Headfloos every evening, but she's still in Australia. She's been there for weeks. I know it's a big place, but I'm not sure that it can really be taking this long to find her parents. She does know where she left them, doesn't she? I think that maybe she's avoiding me, that perhaps she feels the same way as I do.

We spent so long chasing each other that I wonder whether anything could have lived up to what we'd dreamt of. I know it was a new thing for both of us and that we were working things out as we went along, I just thought that there would be more fire. I was expecting to be overtaken by passionate lust. I suppose it was just nerves: first time nerves.

I handed Sirius a cup of tea, like I do every day, and his fingertip brushed my knuckle. I do the afternoon shift, bring him up a cup of tea at about three o'clock. We take it in turns to sit with him. Mum does lunch-time. She brings him something to eat and has a gossip, or as she calls it, gives him "some happy news". I don't know how much Harry actually does, but he's the only other person living here, so he's sort of 'on call' over night. I do know that Ginny and Percy only ever manage ten minutes at a time and that George never turns up.

None of us can bear to look at George. Nobody could see him and not think of Fred. It's like acid in a wound. He only ever looks at the bottom of a Firewhiskey glass.

Me, I'd rather sit with Sirius than be at home. The over-crowding there is so lonely. We all know, all the time, what we're not talking about. It's not just that, though. More and more, I'd rather be here than anywhere else.

Sirius was really sick to start with, all glassy-eyed and staring into space. I didn't like sitting with him then, a month or so back, after Harry and Hermione collected him from the Ministry. I just did it to help Harry out. Girls are much better at that sort of thing - sick people and sympathy and things. Girls are always telling me that I'm no good at that stuff. I've got the emotional range of a teaspoon apparently. Hermione took over the nursing. She was worried that he'd fall down the stairs. One woozy slip near the top step and you'd be falling for ages here. Each flight leads to the next. So she kept his door locked. For his own safety. And then she left.

I never knew what to say, so I just sort of gabbled. About the Cannons and the Wyrd Sisters, chocolate frog cards and shepherd's pie. Anything that came into my head, really, except for about him having been dead and the Battle and that. It was a struggle. Before he died I'd always found him easy to talk to. Well, no, not always. He was a moody git. When he was having a good day, though, we'd have a laugh.

Sometimes he asks about Lupin. "Where's Remus?" he'll say. "Why doesn't he come to see me?"

I'm not supposed to tell him, am I? The first time, I reported back to Harry, but he just said, "He never speaks to me."

For the last week or so, Sirius has been fine. He talks back and joins in. He knows who he is and he remembers everything. When I get up to his room, sometimes he's out of bed and dressed even. I walk through the door and his face gets sunny, all lit up with smiling, and he says, "Ah! It's my tea angel!"

It happened just like that today. I was glad that he was back to normal because yesterday was horrible. He was in bed when I went in and he was pale and shaky. I thought at first that it might have been a relapse. It was different to when he first came back to life, though. His eyes weren't blank; they were deep and awake and sad.

"Molly was talking," he said.

"Yeah, thanks for that, mate. Does us all a favour, you putting up with her for an hour. Stops her fussing over us."

In a cracked voice he asked, "Who's Teddy?"

Teddy? Right. The new baby. Of course. That would be Mum's idea of 'good news'. That's what she'd want to know about. That would give her the strength to face the future. The new baby. New life. Hope.

I took a deep breath. "Teddy Lupin?" I asked. Not that I know any other Teddys.

"So it's true?"

I nodded and sat down on the bed next to him.

"Remus has a son?" He paused, worrying at his fingers. "But how?"

"You remember Tonks?"

"Andromeda's girl. Yes, Molly said. But I thought I was only gone for a couple of years."

There was a silence. It wasn't our usual comfortable silence. Eventually I filled it with, "Bit of a whirlwind thing. Scary times. You know. You drinking that tea?"

"Why hasn't he been to see me?" There was an unusually pathetic whine in his voice.

I really want to tell him, I think he should know: that Lupin hasn't visited because Lupin is dead. I talked to Hermione's head in the fire. She was firm. She hasn't seen him but she's certain she's right, she's sure Sirius isn't strong enough yet to hear the truth. Isn't that just like her? She's never taken me seriously. It's worse now, since we did it. She used to be my friend. I'm not sure what she is now.

Today Sirius is Ok again. He called me his angel and he smiled for me. We drank tea and talked Quidditch. He told me tales of what they got up to at school. It sounds so cool. Of course what we did at school was exciting – all the heroics and fighting You Know Who and all that. What they did was so much more carefree, though. They actually made trouble because they didn't have enough.

I wish I'd been a Marauder. Apart from the fact that they're all dead of course. All except Sirius and he's been dead. We don't talk about that.

I think that maybe he noticed it to, that moment of contact between our hands. I think he might have felt the spark of our skin meeting. His eyes stayed on mine for longer than usual. I didn't want to leave, but when I did he gave me a strange, secret smile.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

I had a row with Harry.

"I'm going to tell Sirius that Lupin's dead."

"Don't you fucking dare!"

I hate arguing with Harry. I always end up losing my rag. It gets out of hand. We don't speak. Eventually I apologise. Until I do I'm lonely and frustrated.

So, I kept my voice down, tried to stay calm, saying, "He has a right to know."

"He won't be able to cope. Not yet."

"Come on, Ron!" Ginny had to get involved, didn't she? It's not enough that she's all over him these days so I don't get to hang out with him on his own. "It's Harry's decision. Sirius is his Godfather."

"Yeah, I know that, but -"

"You're only here for a couple of hours a day."

I hate it when she talks over me like that. I ignored her. I just looked at Harry. I said, "He keeps asking. He thinks he's been abandoned. If it was me, I'd rather know."

Harry ran his hands over his face then and he went all pale like he does just before he loses his temper. Only he didn't. Ginny jumped up and stroked his shoulders. She always tried to steal my special things when we were little. Yes, I know it's not the same thing. I'm not saying it's the same thing.

Harry's voice was all tight and quiet as he said, "He never talks to me."

There was quite a long silence then. I was about to say something just to fill it, only then Harry asked, "What do you two talk about? You and Sirius?"

"Just stuff. Quidditch. Crap mostly. But he gets it all. He knows what's going on. He's all right now. I'm pretty sure he's all right."

Ginny snorted. "Oh, come on, Ron! You know reading people is hardly one of your strengths!"

She had that superior lip curling thing on, the one that Hermione does. I snapped at her. I really wish I hadn't.

"I just think that he ought to be told that his boyfriend's dead!"

Harry started shouting. Ginny looked shocked and kind of sick but Harry really went for it.

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean? They were friends! You sick fuck! You think just 'cos you fucked one of your friends -?"

I started to walk out of the room then. I was not in the mood to have a discussion about me and Hermione.

"That's disgusting, Ron. You're disgusting!"

How come I never knew Harry was like that about gays? I stomped up the stairs. I could hear Ginny in the kitchen behind me saying, "I don't know what's got into him."

Me and Harry, we never really talked about things like that. Not seriously. It was all just a big joke at school – poofs and lezzies and all. That didn't bother me then.

I was thudding up those antique wooden stairs, to drown out the noise of those two in the basement as much as because I was angry. I was, though. Furious.

I'd forgotten to make Sirius his tea. I felt bad about that.

Maybe Ginny was right, though. Maybe I had picked things up wrong. That would be awful. I felt my colour rise at the thought. If I was wrong about Remus Lupin's relationship to the man upstairs, then I had just made my best friend hate me for nothing. It seemed to me even then, though, that that wouldn't be the worst thing. It would have been terrible if Sirius wasn't gay – terrible for me in quite an important way.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do even then, right up to the moment that I opened Sirius' bedroom door. He was standing at the window, watching the rain. When I walked in he smiled and said, "Angel."

I didn't have a cup of tea to give him, so our hands didn't brush against each other and I regretted it.

"Harry says you don't talk to him." I don't know why I said that. I hadn't been planning to.

Sirius stared out of the window and I missed the warmth of his gaze on my face. He always looks straight at me.

"I try. I did try," he said. "But he's odd with me."

"He was so sad when you died."

"Perhaps that's why. Also, he really does look like James. Now he looks like James did just before he was killed. I got used to it before. I think. But I wasn't around when he turned into a man. He looks like James, but he's different. James was always laughing; he was easy to be around." Then he looked right at me. "More like you," he said softly.

His eyes are deep and grey. Like Malfoy's. I shouldn't even know that. It's just that when you've been glaring at someone eyeball to eyeball for all these years, like me and Malfoy, then you can't help but notice their eyes. Well, I couldn't.

Malfoy looks at me like I'm shit on his shoe, though. That's not how Sirius looks at me at all.

"You asked about Lupin," I said.

"Is he coming to see me?"

"Sirius. I'm sorry. He's dead."

For a big guy, he collapsed down to nothing. His face crumpled up. His knees gave way. I caught him and I pulled him to the bed. His long fingers clawed into me. His face sank onto my shoulder.

We sat on the bed for a long time, at least an hour. Nearer to two. My shoulder got wetter and he spasmed out choked noises. I kept my arms wrapped tight round his shoulders.

I'd started to wonder whether he was asleep by the time he said, "Tell me."

"Harry told me not to say," I said. "Was he right?"

"No. I had to know. Now, tell me how he died."

So, I did.

* * *

The next day was sunny. Harry and Ginny still weren't talking to me. Sirius was at the window again.

"Ministry given up chasing me yet?" he asked.

"Yeah. When you've got the great Harry Potter vouching for your innocence ..." I shrugged.

"Can I go out then?"

Hermione would have a fit. She was still convinced that he'd break his neck or drown in the cistern if we let him leave the room. Who knows what danger lay beyond the front door? There could be traffic and potholes and even wasps. I knew what she would say. I knew that Harry and Ginny would back her up.

"Where d'you wanna go?" I asked him.

I was going to be in trouble with Harry anyway. I was going to have to apologise and make up with him. I might as well.

Sirius shrugged.

Ok, so I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, but there's no point actually inviting trouble. I decided Apparition was a better form of valour than actually walking past Harry and out of the front door. I side-alonged Sirius to a park I'd been to a couple of times with the twins.

The spot we always Apparated to was well hidden, between a thick hedge and a brick wall. I gave it a moment before I let go of his arm, telling myself he would be getting his bearings. I just like the way he feels. Even when he was crying, I couldn't stop myself from enjoying the warm weight of him. I do know that was wrong: he was destroyed with grief for his dead lover and I was getting half hard.

He did wobble a bit to begin with. But then he took a huge breath in and I felt him shaking slightly as he raised his head and looked up. He just stood and stared at that grey London sky and gulped in the traffic-fumed air. He squinted into dull sunlight. He wasn't used to it. So, I conjured him a pair of shades.

They suited him. With his black shirt, ripped jeans and long, tangled hair he looked like a rock star. I noticed myself looking at that straight, mostly black hair, with just the occasional white, and the way it lay against his sharp cheekbones. I stopped before he could notice too. Reluctantly, I let go of his arm.

To my surprise he took my hand. Every nerve of my palm tingled, shooting pleasure through my whole body. It was as big a turn-on as snogging Lavender had been, more than going all the way with Hermione.

As we squeezed out into the main park, his head jerked around all over the place, like he was trying to see every leaf and bit of litter. I wished I could see his eyes then. We passed a flower bed and he ducked down. He stuck the fingers of his free hand into the soil. Then he looked right up, right at me and he said, "Thank you."

We did get a few curious glances from the Muggles on the benches and the lawns, but not as many as I would have expected – two tall men walking hand in hand, not talking, one gangly and ginger and young enough to be the handsome one's son. He was drinking in every sight and sound and smell. We must have spent about twenty minutes in silent movement. In that time, the only thing I was really aware of was the grip of his hand on mine.

Eventually, he sank down onto the grass and I dropped with him. We sat, him still admiring the pigeons and the street lamps and the stinging nettles, me just admiring him. He spied the hot dog van near the entrance.

"You got any Muggle money?" he asked.

"Sorry. You hungry?"

"No. Just wanted to get you something. Feel like I ought to. 'Cos this feels like, sort of ..." He looked right at me and then he looked at the ground.

"Like what?"

"Like a date," he mumbled.

I liked that idea. I really did. I didn't know what to say, though. I picked up my hand that was still in his and I pressed my other hand around them both. He took off the sunglasses and examined my expression. I looked right back. Slowly we grew matching grins.

"So, Angel," he said softly. "How far do you usually go on a first date?"

My skin burned up and I knew I was doing that embarrassing blushing thing. My throat had closed over so I shrugged one shoulder.

"Don't know or don't want to say?"

"Never had one before," I admitted.

He chuckled. "I can't believe that."

"Bit too busy saving people, or rather tagging along while Harry did. Had a couple of girlfriends, only there wasn't, sort of, time for ... that. Dates." I didn't want to talk about that any more. I didn't like remembering how much younger and less experienced I was than him. "What about you?" I asked.

"That depends on how much I like the guy I'm dating."

"And?"

His voice was so soft it felt like being caressed when he answered, "I'd do anything for you, Angel."

I couldn't believe myself, how bold I was, with that spectacular man in that crowded place, but I asked, "Kiss me?"

So he did.

* * *

When we got back to his room, his eyes were shining and his skin glowed.

"Fantastic!" he enthused. "Getting outside. It was fantastic. I owe you so much, my angel. Fresh air. Sunlight." He turned to face me. "And you."

I just grinned back at him. I didn't know what else to do. I'd never had another man's tongue in my mouth before. I was still dizzy from the taste and texture of him. I wanted to do it again. I just stared at his dark red lips. I thought about asking first. I was still thinking about it as I sprang across the room. Then I just held his face still and kissed it.

He kissed back, hard, his nostrils puffing audible breaths onto my cheeks, his hand on my back, pressing us together. He pulled us down onto the bed, first sitting, then lying. He began to roll his leg over me, to shift so that he was on top of me, but he stopped himself and sat up.

"Have you decided?" he rasped. "How far will you go on a first date?"

I didn't want to think or talk, I just wanted to keep his warmth against me, to follow his lead and to satisfy the building need in my groin. I wasn't even sure how men did make love to each other, not in detail.

Feeling a bit stupid, I said, "Er, I don't know." I could feel that idiotic flush creeping across my skin.

He sucked my neck, which made me heat up even more, before he pulled back again and choked out, in a thick and croaky voice, "Can't. Too soon, too young."

"I might want to," I protested, not knowing what I was protesting for.

"Not yet," he whispered. "Please let me see you." His face was pleading, but I didn't know what he meant.

I said, "Yes," anyway because I didn't want that feeling to stop.

Straight away, he pushed my T-shirt up to my neck. Oh! See me naked! That's OK then. I twisted to help him though the fabric kept getting stuck, what with me lying flat on my back and his body back on top of mine, pinning me to the mattress.

As I got the shirt clear of my hair, his mouth hit my chest, all hot and wet, making my belly muscles twitch. His fingers travelled over my skin, sometimes light, sometimes firm, exploring as he hummed vibrations through me. My nerves were all wrung tight in an almost painful desire. This was it: this was the fire, the passion, the overwhelming lust that I had wanted with Hermione.

* * *

"Is he Ok?" Harry asked.

I nodded.

"Have you told him?"

I nodded again. I was trying to hold my face straight. I didn't dare give anything away.

"And?"

"He was upset. But he's getting over it."

"You sure?"

Because I wouldn't be able to tell? I nodded. Harry nodded back and we made to pass each other, him going downstairs to the kitchen, me going up.

"Erm, Harry. There's something else. I've done something else." I might as well tell him, get the bollocking over with. He looked wary. "I took him out. Outside."

"Outside his room?" Harry looked thunderstruck.

"Yeah. And outside the house."

"Shit! And?"

"It was fine. Great." I nodded.

Harry never yelled at me like I thought he would. He just nodded too and we went our separate ways.

* * *

For the rest of that month our lives continued in much the same pattern. I came to Grimmauld Place every day after my mother had left. Only, now I brought the pot of tea through the Floo with me, to limit the length of the awkwardness in the kitchen with my sister and my best friend. And now I stayed longer and we went outside for some of the time and when we weren't outside we were usually naked.

Every day, Sirius tried something just a bit more intimate and every time he left me hungry for the next step. One afternoon, he sat me on the bed and knelt between my thighs. As he lowered his head, I was determined that I would stay alert so I could learn how to do the same for him. But the sensation was too impossibly overwhelming and it shut down all thought.

By the third time, I thought I had enough control, I thought that I could pay attention this time. Then he rubbed a wet finger over my hole and I was lost again.

"My angel," he would murmur, wiping his mouth, and I would warm the tea pot and we'd sit up in bed together drinking it.

Sometimes he dozed with his head in my lap; sometimes he cradled me in his arms like a baby. There aren't many people with arms that long.

We would go outside so he could breath the air and see the sky. We made love before we went and again after we came back. If we could get away with it, we'd make out while we were there, too. A farmer nearly caught us flattening his wheat once, but we managed the Apparition just in time.

It took more than two blissful weeks before he decided I was ready and then he entered me so gently that my heart broke. I was his delicate angel, in spite of the rest of the world seeing me as overgrown and insensitive.

He made me happy.

* * *

I was in the bathroom when I heard my name being shouted up the stairs. It was Ginny. I looked down and there she was in the hallway, smiling fit to burst, jumping up and down.

"Guess who's here?"

I couldn't. It wasn't until I walked into the kitchen that I knew. Then I knew immediately and like a stone in my gut. Brown bushy hair. Squealing. I had a couple of seconds to compose my face because she was hugging Harry.

"I'll get the kettle on," I said.

Then she cannoned into me and I got a face-full of hair and that minty smell. I hugged her back because there didn't seem to be any other options. She straightened up and fixed me with a determined look.

"Right, Ronald Weasley," she announced, "I've made some decisions." She took in a deep breath. "We need to start again. From the beginning. I've got it all worked out. I know why things didn't, well, maybe weren't as expected. So. We'll do things properly, actually go out on dates and -"

"Look. Hermione -"

I hadn't thought about her. Not since that day in the park with Sirius. Before then. If I'd been speaking to Harry and Ginny then maybe we would have talked about her and I would have remembered. We'd never broken up. I had to tell her. I wanted us to stay friends.

Ginny butted in. "Oh, yes! Harry, we could double date. That would be so cool!"

"Yeah." Harry laughed. "Like normal teenagers."

Hermione looked at them, but she kept hold of me. I wasn't holding her any more. My hands had pulled themselves away. They were up in the air, my arms at awkward angles.

Hermione and Ginny discussed were we would go, what we would do, we two couples. Harry had this indulgent, exasperated expression and he smiled at me over the tops of the girls' heads. I wanted to smile back. I wanted us to be friends again. I couldn't bear it.

"I can't!" I blurted.

Ginny gave me one of her amused looks with the single raised eyebrow. "You can't sit in a tea shop? Really Ron, why not?"

I stepped back, stepped away from Hermione. I thought I was meant to be the one who was dense about people. Couldn't they hear my heart thumping and see the cold sweat running over me?

"Hermione, we need to talk."

"We will, darling. We will." She patted my arm.

"Now. Alone."

She rolled her eyes and snapped at me, "Just spit it out Ron! Honestly!"

Once she'd done that, I stopped caring quite so much about her pride and protecting her feelings and telling her in private.

"I want us to stay friends." I started with that because that was the most important thing.

"What? Look, I'm sure we can do both, the best relationships -"

"I'm sorry. There's somebody. While you were away. I fell for somebody."

Hermione's face began to fall, but it was quizzical too. She asked, "But I was only gone a few weeks."

"I'm sorry." I was.

Ginny laughed. "Who are you talking about, Ron? Take no notice, Hermione. This is his idea of a joke. We'd know. Wouldn't we Harry?"

"What are you on about?" Harry asked me.

"It's ... I've ..."

There was a clatter on the stairs and he stood in the doorway, looking creased and sleepy but magnificent.

"Sirius!" Hermione shrilled. "You look so well!" She had that social, polite expression on. The one she gives to other people's parents and new teachers.

"Fuck!" Harry shouted.

We all turned to look at him. He was looking at me looking at Sirius.

He hissed, "That's what you've been doing up there. Hours in his room. That's how you managed it. It's him. I'm right."

He wasn't really asking. He knew. I nodded anyway.

It took Hermione a fraction of a second to catch on. Then she launched herself, spitting and screaming, at my Sirius. I got between them, but not before she'd yelled, "You bastard! You'd steal my boyfriend?"

"Your what?" he asked. He was asking her, but he was looking at me. It was a horrible look made of accusation. I was holding her back, protecting him, squashed between them. He started moving away. I stopped caring about any other person in that room. My best friends and my sister disappeared and all I could see was him backing away from me.

"No!" I yelled. "Look, Sirius, I didn't know. It was all undecided. She wasn't here!"

"You were playing with me?" he whispered.

"No!"

Harry had set off on one of his rants behind me, about how it was no wonder I'd been the one to get Sirius talking and if only he'd known that he was supposed to screw him then maybe he'd have had a chance too. He said he'd been feeling guilty, hadn't understood how I'd got through to his Godfather when he couldn't, but now it was crystal clear. He made it sound like I'd been cheating. I hardly heard. All I processed at the time was that Sirius was heading for the door.

I let go of Hermione, briefly aware that she'd been scratching and biting at my arm, and I set off after him. My lover. My love.

"You never even said." He was shaking his head.

"I forgot!"

His face was tense and there was a creasing around his eyes. He didn't fall apart, though, not like he had when I'd told him Lupin was dead. He was holding himself tight together and it was only when I saw that, that I realised how privileged I was. He had trusted me so completely that day that he had disintegrated in my arms. He didn't trust me any more.

I let him walk out of the room and up the basement stairs, knowing I couldn't call him back and that if I chased him we would only fight, or worse, he would ignore me. I had never deserved him and now I'd blown it. I watched the dark, straight hairs which straggled over the pale lump of his ankle.

"I think you owe me an explanation, Ronald Weasley." Hermione's voice was behind me, shrill and strident. It surprised me. "I've just spent the last few weeks devising a plan to make our relationship work -"

I turned on her, off-loading all the anger I felt towards myself, and snapped, "Yeah, thanks for involving me in that! It was so handy, knowing where I stood! Thank Merlin for all the deep discussions you involved me in -"

Her face was shocked, but her arms stayed crossed over her chest. It took a moment, but of course she interrupted me: "I did Headfloo every evening. You were as capable of initiating a dialogue as I was, instead of letting some old man pleasure you -"

"That's not what -"

"Then tell me, what was it? How did it happen?"

How? That's the wrong question. It's not like that. This is about feeling things, not cause and effect, or following a formula. What is the answer to 'how'?

I shrugged. "I just fell in love," I said.

Hermione gave an exasperated snort. Beyond her, Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. I got a derisive sneer from Ginny. Would they be like this with anyone else? Is it because they don't think I'm capable of deep emotions?

Warm breath shocked me against my ear and strong hands grasped my hips from behind. "So did I," Sirius whispered. I hadn't even heard him come back downstairs.

I spun and put my arms round his neck. "I'm sorry," I said, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He shushed me, adding quietly, "But in the future, you tell me everything."

The future? There's a future? And it's one with me and him both inside it? Together? That makes me very happy.


End file.
